


Unwind

by yeaka



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: John ends the day by solving another problem.





	Unwind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PockyGhost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PockyGhost/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for pockyghost’s “27 [a kiss as a suggestion], Captain/Diaval” request on [my tumblr prompt list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/176075204220/prompt-list). I arbitrarily named the captain John.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Maleficent or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

John’s patrol lasts far longer than his soldiers’, and his work is never _truly_ done—the end of his shift leaves him checking on the others, coordinating schedules and overseeing equipment, being sure that everyone’s armour is polished and their swords are kept sharp, though they’ve had no trouble in some time. Aurora’s reign is more peaceful than he can ever remember. He checks on her often, but even that seems more formality than necessity—she’s loved by all, and by powers that far surpass his own mortal weapons.

Still, he does his duties, and it isn’t until the sun has long since set that he can afford to pace the green fields beyond the castle. Diaval waits to walk with him, drawing a few sidelong glances from other guards. John guides his raven over the nearest hill and down the other side to put them out of range. 

At first, they just stroll forward—John is stiff from work, and it feels good to walk free of heavy armour, though his sword is still sheathed at his hip just in case. Diaval’s dark eyes are on the stars, but a frown is on his lips. His attractive features are often swamped in disapproval, so John doesn’t fret over it, just asks, “How was your day?”

“Poor,” Diaval mutters, bristling as though to shake out his feathers. “She kept me in this form all day—said it would be good to grow _used_ to it, but what is the good in this?” After a moment, during which John bites the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling, Diaval thinks to add, “No offense.”

“None taken.” John knows well that Diaval takes no umbrage with the human form on others: his beloved Aurora, after all, is nothing more than human.

“There’s just nothing to _do_ with it! I can’t fly, can’t see as far, can’t sing the same...” He grumbles off into nothing. That’s something, at least, that John can cure.

He slows his steps. Diaval comes to a halt beside him, glancing curiously over. They haven’t reached anywhere special yet—the Moors are still a good distance away, and even the nearest veil of trees will take a good dozen more paces. But the dip in the hills and the darkness of the night provide enough privacy. John notes, “There are _some things_ you can do only like this.” 

Diaval lifts one jet-black brow. John steps forward, lifts a hand to cup Diaval’s cheek, feeling the unusual imprint on his palm, and presses a warm kiss against Diaval’s waiting lips. He lingers long enough to cement his suggestion. When he pulls back again, Diaval’s pupils are a little wider—he must have understood the hint. 

He lunges in to have another, then grabs John’s hand and tugs him swiftly off towards the back-support of nearby trees.


End file.
